


Adrenaline Junkie

by Challenger2011



Series: Adrenaline [1]
Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 20:04:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17987708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Challenger2011/pseuds/Challenger2011
Summary: Captain Quinn gets stressed a lot. Allen finds out how to calm him down.





	Adrenaline Junkie

**Author's Note:**

> Representing my Unit here with Freedom One-One.

Adrenaline Junkie

 

Allen had never really thought about what Captain Quinn did when he wasn’t working on Blue Book. Objectively he knew that they didn’t have enough cases yet to keep the Captain busy all the time when Allen wasn’t around, but he’d never thought much about it. Quinn had told Allen he was a pilot, had escorted the bombers over Berlin during the war, but he hadn’t really considered it relevant to their job.

Maybe that was why he hadn't recognized the Captain across the Officers Mess where Allen was grabbing lunch, dressed in some kind of olive onesie instead of his usual dress blues. He had a heavy webbing vest on with a thick collar and heavy belts wrapped around both thighs, a strange helmet on the bench beside him and one leg shaking as he stared up at the clock. 

Come to think of it, everyone at that table was staring intensely at that clock. The others were all dressed in the familiar black flight suit Allen himself had worn on his one flight with the Captain, leather helmets and bomber jackets piled all around the table. Maybe he was flying today?

Allen nudged the man next to him, another Captain.

“What’s going on around here today? Everyone seems kinda jumpy.”

The man paused to stare at Allen while chewing slowly. Allen recognized the look and stuck out his hand. “I’m Professor Allen Hynek, I work with Captain Quinn on Project Blue Book.”

Allen could see the recognition dawn on the other man, who swallowed quickly and laughed, taking Allen’s hand for a quick shake. He gestured to the other table.

“They’re on call out drills today. Captain Quinn was asked to show the fighter squadron here why the Air Force is phasing out all the planes and going to jet powered fighters.”

Allen blinked. “Jet fighters?”

“Yeah, turbine powered instead of the radials we got here. They’re going to race. See who gets in the air first.” The Captain shrugged. 

“I guess there’s been a lot of pushback against them from the pilots. They don’t think they’re any better than what we got so the Base Commander asked for a demonstration to shut them up.”

Allen considered the table again.

“Is this happening at a certain time?”

The Captain shook his head and dug back into his food. “Naw, whenever the alarm goes off. They just been sitting there for an hour waiting. Getting antsy now.”

A loud clanging alarm went off at that moment, deafening in the large room. The table erupted like an anthill as the men there grabbed their things, sorting through the pile of jackets and throwing them at the owners when it wasn’t theirs. 

Captain Quinn was almost to the door already, a few pilots who had kept their stuff on following him out. All he grabbed was the full head helmet, much larger than the other pilot’s helmets, and solid. Painted a dark grey. He disappeared through the doors at the far end, but Allen could see him break into a run across the grass outside heading for the hangars a few hundred meters away next to the end of the runway.

The other Captain nudged his arm. “You ever seen a jet fighter before?” Allen shook his head no.

“You want to?” Allen looked over towards the hangars. He was curious now. 

“Absolutely.”

The Captain nodded, “We gotta go then, right now or we’ll miss it”

He stood as he spoke and gathered his tray, starting towards the tray collection. Allen scrambled to follow, dumping his tray and hurrying to follow the Captain who was already out the doors and heading for the tower next door. As he ran to catch up, Allen could see the hangars swarming with people. Aircraft he recognized as six P-51 Mustang fighters were being dragged out of the hangar, their pilots just reaching the edge of the paved ramp.

What must be the jet fighter was already outside it’s hangar, shining a brilliant silver in the afternoon sun, its swept back, undermount wings looking odd next to the Mustangs. Bright stripes of yellow stood out from the dim green paint of the mustangs, the letters USAF painted on in black. Captain Quinn was already climbing inside, dropping down into the cockpit as the maintainers released the tow bar from the nose wheel and pulled away, a marshaller remaining about 50 feet off the nose. Allen lost sight as he ducked inside and followed the Captain’s jog up the stairs to the tower floor where he was handed a set of headphones plugged into the radio.

Captain Quinn’s calm voice came over the comms as he conversed with the tower personnel.

“Freedom 1-1 starting on spot 2.”

A high pitched whine came from outside and Allen moved closer to the windows to look below at the ramp. 

The Mustang Pilots were just settling into their cockpits, all the aircraft lined up in a row, diagonal to the runway. The jet fighter was at the end looking straight down across their noses. Its body was level, unlike the taildragger Mustangs, the wing design looking odd from above. No propeller was visible on the dished nose and Allen wasn’t sure how it could be better than the Mustangs without a bigger propeller, but then again, Planes were not his field of expertise. It was certainly faster to get going than the Mustangs were, and wasn’t that what they were trying to prove?

The whine got louder with a whooshing noise and ramped up to a level that made conversation difficult even in headphones.

“Freedom 1-1 requesting taxi to Charlie.”

“Freedom 1-1, Tower. Permission granted. Taxi to Charlie and hold for instruction.”

The silver jet slowly rolled forward, the whine building to a dull roar as it rolled faster down the ramp to the entrance to the runway. Rolling to the center of the runway it turned in a tight circle to face north up the runway and paused.

“Freedom 1-1 requesting takeoff to flight level 30, release to Romeo.”

Allen leaned a bit farther forward to see the the Mustang pilots had all sealed the cockpits and had their marshallers standing off for the starts.

“Tower, permission granted. Takeoff to flight level 30, release to Romeo.”

“Freedom 1-1, acknowledge.”

The mike went dead. The dull roar rose to a scream of noise outside, the tower windows rattling. Allen watched in amazement as the silver fighter streaked across the ground like a rocket, gaining speed faster than any plane he’d ever seen, before launching off the ground with a trail of exhaust and rocketing into an almost vertical climb. Craning his neck to follow the plane, he saw the moment the jet leveled off and doubled back. It was passing parallel to the runway about 3000ft overhead as the first Mustang taxi’d into place at the end of the runway and Allen almost missed it.

A cone of cloud formed at the nose of the jet as flames streamed from the rear. A thunderous crash of sound like a thunderclap from a lightning strike right next to him made the tower shake as the jet streaked into the distance, the windows rattling alarmingly long after he lost sight.

The Captain and the tower personnel clapped and shouted in excitement, mocking the pilots still on the ground. The Mustangs by now had one in the air with a second doing its takeoff roll as Allen looked at his watch. 4 Minutes.

The whole thing from alarm to the jet disappearing out of sight took 4 minutes. He shook his head. No Mustang was EVER going to beat that.

Moments after the last Mustang had leapt into the air a climbed to 3000ft to follow the jet the tower came back on the comms. 

“End Ex guys, repeat, End Ex. Burn some fuel and head back.” A chatter of pilots acknowledging the order came through the headset as Allen pulled it off and turned to look at the Captain next to him. Wilbur, the tag on his chest said. The Captain was grinning hugely at him. 

“So, what do you think?”

Allen shook his head. “How fast was it going? Looked like it was breaking the sound barrier there.” Captain Wilbur was already nodding.

“Mach 0.72 or so.” Allen blinked dumbly and the Captain rushed to explain.

“It’s only transonic capable so it can’t get to Mach 1 yet, but hot damn, can that baby move. I wouldn’t want to fly in one of those let me tell you that.” He finished the statement with a nod, turning to watch out the window where the Mustang pilots could be seen horsing around with each other, performing barrel rolls and dives in the clear afternoon sky.

“Hang around a few more minutes and you’ll get to see Quinn come back too.” Wilbur nudged one of the tower personnel. “Maybe we can get him to buzz the tower for a real show.”

The tower guy was already grinning up at Wilbur as he keyed the mic.

“Freedom 1-1, this is tower, copy.” Allen placed the headphones back over his ears.

“Freedom 1-1, go ahead.”

“Capt. Wilbur here has requested a flyby of the tower on return. Got your partner up here and he wants to give him show.”

Allen could hear the grin in Captain Quinn’s voice.

“Freedom 1-1, copy tower. Give him a show.” The mic clicked off.

Allen looked to the south as Captain Wilbur gestured out the window. “Watch this. Keep the headphones on though.”

Squinting out the window, Allen could just make out a silver flash in the distance as tower keyed the mic again.

“Eagle flight, this is tower.” The lead Mustang pilot responded.

“Tower, this is Eagle 1.”

“Tower, You boys might wanna move away a bit more, but you should keep an eye south for Freedom 1-1’s flyby.”

“Eagle 1, acknowledge.” The Mustangs broke off their antics and took to flying parallel to the runway making large, slow circles around the tower. Allen could hear the jet now.

The low rumble filled the air, the tower glass beginning to rattle again as the silver flash coalesced into a plane again.

“Holy shit!”

The sound lifted to a shriek of overwhelming noise, the tower floor shaking under Allen’s feet as the jet streaked past on its side level with the windows, cockpit towards the tower maybe 50ft away. Allen could see Quinn inside, face fully covered by an oxygen mask and dark visor covering his eyes, through the cockpit’s glass dome. Just past the tower the jet rolled upright and then the other way, cutting a tight turn down over the barracks to the left of the tower, before flaring and pulling vertical again. Taking off upwards like a rocket as people rushed outside the buildings to watch, loose dirt and items like hats blowing wildly into the air.

Straightening out into level flight at 3000ft again, the jet made a large loop and lined up on the runway, touching down with a gentle bounce and slowing to a stop. Turning in a tight circle, the jet taxi’d leisurely down the runway towards the other end and the ramp exit.

Allen took the headphones off with shaky hands and handed them to Captain Wilbur, who grinned at him, then gestured to the door. 

“Ready to head down for a closer look?” Without waiting for a reply, the Captain started back down the stairs to the tower entrance. Allen follow slowly behind.

At the time of their accident, Allen had been angry at Captain Quinn for crashing, figuring the excuse that they would have died if Quinn wasn’t such a good pilot was just bravado. That he was talking himself up to seem better than he was, but now Allen wasn’t so sure. Quinn had never told Allen WHAT he flew, so Allen had just sorta figured it was one plane or another the military had. It had never occurred to him that the plane they went up in was not what Quinn normally flew. No basic pilot would get to fly a plane like the jet on the Base Commander’s personal request. Quinn hadn’t been lying about his skills. 

The realization made Allen more grateful than ever that Quinn had been the pilot that took them up that night. It had been a stupid request. If Quinn couldn’t fly the maneuvers, no regular pilot with half the experience could. He could have actually died that night.

The jet was shut down by the time Allen and the Captain reached the ramp, though Allen could feel the heat coming off the exhaust duct as they walked past it to where Quinn was prying himself out off the cockpit and stretching. He climbed out over the side to meet them at the bottom of the stairs the maintainers had set up next to the plane.

Helmet still on, but visor up, and the oxygen mask hanging to the side Quinn met Allen’s eyes with the biggest smile Allen had ever seen. It was an automatic reaction to smile in answer. The pilot was practically glowing. Pulling the helmet off and passing it to one of the maintainers, Quinn practically bounced to Allen’s side. His hair was loose and crazy from the sweat and spiked randomly when Quinn ran his fingers through it. He looked like an excited kid, though Allen could see his hands were shaking just slightly.

“Doc! What do you think?” The Captain gestured to the plane behind him suggestively. Allen smiled back.

“Definitely the coolest thing I have seen on this base to date.” Quinn grinned larger if it was even possible, before turning to Wilbur.

“Hey, how’d you manage to get the Doc here out of the office? I didn’t know he even knew we had planes here.” Wilbur laughed.

“He was in the Mess when you guys got the alarm. Asked him if he wanted to watch. The F-86 Sabre IS a rare beauty around here.” Quinn bobbed his head a few times, before clapping his hands together and spinning back to Allen.

“I gotta go meet the CO for a chat with the aircrew here, but I’ll see you later?” He was already moving away towards the hangar, both hands giving finger guns to Allen, when Allen nodded.

“I’ll be in the office for a while.” He got another blinding smile before Quinn turned and jogged towards the hangar’s main doors. Allen could see Wilbur contemplating Quinn’s back as they stood next to the plane. Wilbur looked over.

“Guess you’ll have an easier time with him for the next little while.” Allen looked at him questioningly.

“Quinn’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie, that man lives to fly anything with wings. He got a jet by being the best, and he’s kept it despite being chained to a desk job. He practically lives here to get his flying hours in to keep certified.” Wilbur looked towards the hangar again.

“He’s right ornery though when he doesn’t fly. Longer he goes without the worse he gets. He gets annoying enough, just tell him to go away for a while and guaranteed he’ll be down here. He gets all shaky for a bit afterwards, but he calms right down in an hour or so.”

Wilbur could clearly see the odd look Allen was giving him and laughed. “I flew with Quinn in a 2 seater for 3 years during the war. I got used to handling him.” Allen nodded.

“Well,” Wilbur stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you doc, but I’m going to head home for the night. That was my supper so it means it's coming up bed time for me, early flights in the morning.”

Allen shook it and they parted ways, Allen heading back across the green towards the office. 

Wilbur was right. When Quinn showed up a few hours later, just before Allen himself called it a night, dressed in his familiar blue uniform, he was calm. Languid even, if he hadn’t known better Allen would almost believe the pilot had just come from a good night with a woman. The snappiness from a few days ago was gone.

Easy smile and so young looking Allen had almost forgot Quinn was a decorated war veteran with over 10 years of flying experience. That was a lifetime in today’s military.

Quinn was 35, though he looked much younger at the moment and Allen knew he underestimated the Captain a lot. It happened when he had to explain things he was used to his peers just knowing, but the Captain was far from stupid. Often he surprised Allen. Like today. He was an amazing pilot. Allen couldn’t imagine being in control of something like the Sabre, he hated to fly commercial as it was and that didn't make maneuvers like the fighter did.

He liked this Quinn he thought as he watched the Captain lean back in his chair, head back staring at the ceiling and a cigarette dangling from loose fingers. The pilot rolled his head to the side and looked at him.

‘Ready to call it a night doc? I think we got a job coming tomorrow.”

Allen nodded. “It’s been a long day.”

Quinn grinned at him.

Allen couldn’t help but smile back.


End file.
